


One Blind Date Too Many

by katedf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a bad blind date, Camille isn’t sure she’s ready to try again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Richard Poole sat on his veranda, sulking. He hated it when Camille went on those blind dates her mother set up. At least when his mother used to do that to him, it was with daughters of friends or neighbors, not with complete strangers who just happened to walk into a bar.

These last few times, Camille had been reluctant, but Catherine was persuasive, and so Camille had always given in. Just this afternoon, Richard had pointed out to Camille that she was a grown woman and didn’t have to do this. The conversation hadn’t gone well.

“I know I don’t HAVE to, but she’s my mother.”

“My mother has tried to set me up, too, but I don’t always agree. Being a mother doesn’t confer the right to control a grown child’s life.”

“That isn’t what she’s doing.”

“You can say _no._ What can she do to you, Camille? Ground you? You’ve got your own house. She can’t lock you in your room until you agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m all she’s got. She wants me to be happy.”

“That’s all the more reason to take good care of each other. But good God, Camille, she’s practically your pimp!”

Camille went deathly still. “Take that back. I mean it, Richard. You take that back.”

“All right, bad choice of words. But she’s handing you over to a complete stranger. What would you call it?”

Camille just glared at him.

“I know she calls it a blind date. But where I come from, a blind date is when somebody knows you and knows the other person, and gets you together. The key point here being that the person who sets up the blind date KNOWS the individuals involved.”

Camille glared out the window, like a sullen teenager.

Richard sighed in frustration. “Look, Camille, I know she pressures you. And I don’t mean to add to the pressure. I just don’t want something to happen to you.”

“I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry.”

“But I do, not because I think you’re weak or unable to defend yourself. But sometimes things get out of control.”

“You can’t ground me, either, Richard.”

“I could lock you in a cell. And don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Her glare returned to Richard.

“Okay, fine. Go. Have a good time. I’m sure it will go well and you’ll be all right. Sorry I worried, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

With that, Richard had stalked out of the station. Dwayne and Fidel were on their way back from a walk through the town.

“Chief, you all right?”

“Yes, Dwayne, I’m fine. I’m on call tonight, so I thought I’d take a bit of a break, stretch my legs, get some air.”

When Dwayne and Fidel entered the station, they could see that Camille was fuming. They exchanged looks and eye rolls. The chief and his DS had been arguing. Again.

By the time Richard returned to the station, Camille had left to get ready for her date. He thought about calling her, but there was no point. It would only make both of them angry again. 

So he went home, had supper, and sulked. He couldn’t have a beer because he was on call. It was rare for a call to come through off hours, but someone had to be ready. He could function perfectly well on one beer. But rules were rules. That was his real problem. There were rules. So many rules. And at least one of them said that his beautiful DS was off-limits. Not that it mattered, he supposed. She would never be interested in him that way. 

The emergency on-call phone rang.

“Poole.”

_“We need someone at Turquoise.”_

“What’s that?”

_“A restaurant in St. Jacques. There’s been a disturbance.”_

“Can’t the Government House station handle it? They’re closer.”

_“No, sir. They’ve already been called out for a huge accident.”_

“All right, give me the information. I’ll be right there.”


	2. Chapter 2

Richard was about to leave for St. Jacques when his own phone rang. He answered as he was leaving the house.

“Poole.”

_“Richard!”_

“Camille, what is it?”

_“I need backup… prisoner.”_

“Are you all right? Where are you?”

_“I’ll be ’kay, at Turquoise… a restaurant—”_

“I know. I caught the call for a disturbance. What happened?”

_“Date was drunk an’ I wanned to drive an’ we argued.”_

“Camille?”

_“S’fine, fine, he’s cuffed. Goin’ nowhere. Got his shirt.”_

“I’m on my way!”

Richard drove as fast as he dared, with every light in the light bar flashing. When he got to the restaurant, he could see Camille sitting on a bench outside, bent over, head in hands. A man who turned out to be the manager stood nearby.

Ignoring the manager, Richard went directly to Camille. He knelt in front of her and said, “Camille! What happened?”

“Risherd. You’re here.”

“Of course I am. Tell me what happened?”

“Not sure. Drugs.” She held out a rolled-up shirt and said, “Bag this. No, careful, don’t lose powder.”

“What, cocaine?”

She nodded, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She burped slightly. When he started to get out of the way, she said, “S’okay. I already, you know.” And she made a spewing gesture.

“When did you take it?”

“No, him!”

“Then what did _you_ take?”

“Dunno, in my drink mebbe.”

“It’s going to be all right. Just hang on, Camille. ” Richard stood to speak to the manager. Camille slumped forward again, and Richard kept his hand lightly on her shoulder. He listened to the manager for a minute, then called Dispatch.

“It’s Poole, where’s the ambulance?”

Pause

“WHAT?”

Pause

“Not good enough, I’ll transport them in the police car. Tell the hospital to expect two patients, probably drug reactions. One is believed to be cocaine; he’s unconscious. The other could be anything. First guess is some kind of date-rape drug. Tell them if they can’t send a damn ambulance they should at least be ready when I get there! And I’m going to need someone from hospital security.”

The restaurant manager helped Richard get the unconscious handcuffed man into the back of the Rover. Richard helped Camille into the passenger seat. He leaned across her to buckle her seat belt.

“Hang on, Camille, just hang on!”

As he walked around to the driver seat, a police car pulled into the parking lot. An officer from the Government House team had been sent to help. _Better late than never._ Richard thought.

“We need a list of everyone in the restaurant and their contact information. The guy in the back of the Rover is unconscious. Woman in the front is DS Bordey. Not sure if he hit his head when she was cuffing him or if he’s just passed out on drugs. So we need the usual, who saw what. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, I’ll expect your report some time tomorrow. Thanks.”

Richard got in the car. “Camille?”

“Hmmm?

“Come on, Camille, stay with me.”

“Hmmm? Reeshurrrd?”

“I’m right here, love. Hang on.”

When Richard arrived at Casualty, they were ready to receive two patients. One went quietly because he was still passed out. The other was a handful.

“No! I wanna go home.”

A nurse tried to get Camille to sit in a wheelchair. She grasped Richard’s sleeve. “Reeshurrrd, no!”

Richard uncurled her fingers and gave her hand a little squeeze. “We don’t know what he gave you. They’ll make sure you’re all right. So behave yourself. That’s an order, Bordey!”

“Noooo, don’ wanna! Reeshurrrd, pleeeeze!”

Richard bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be right outside your door. Be a good girl.”

Richard removed the handcuffs from the prisoner. He handed them to the nurse and said, “Handcuff her to the bed if you have to. She says she sicked up, so you may not have to, you know, pump her stomach.”

Richard spent two horrible hours in the waiting room. He thought about calling Catherine, but decided he needed to speak to her in person. He hated doing it, but there was one phone call he had to make right away. Commissioner Patterson wasn’t pleased to be called at home so late in the evening, but when Richard explained what had happened, he agreed to the plan. If someone asked him about the incident at Turquoise, he would say that Camille had been undercover and a suspect had gotten out of hand.

A nurse finally emerged to give Richard an update.

“Your prisoner is going to be all right. He’s probably going to feel like hell tomorrow, and serve him right. Your sergeant is also going to feel lousy, but she’ll recover quickly. We’re keeping both overnight.’

“May I see her?”

“She’s sleeping, but you may go in for a minute. Um, you may have some fences to mend. Apparently turning her over to us did not endear you to her. She called for you and then cursed you for not being there. And then she said she never wanted to see you again.” The nurse smiled, “But she’ll get over that, too.”

Richard tiptoed into Camille’s room. He sat by the bed for a minute. The sounds were turned off, but he could see the monitor display. He felt better after noting that her heart rate and breathing were steady. 

He gently touched the back of her hand and said, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Camille. What would I do if…” He was too busy looking at her to notice the momentary increase in her heartbeat.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard’s last order of business was to talk to Catherine. La Kaz was winding down for the night when he arrived.

“Richard! It’s late for you to be here.” 

“Can somebody close up for you? We need to talk.”

“What happened? Is it Camille?”

“Not here.”

Catherine started muttering in French. She asked her cook to close up the bar. Then she and Richard went up to her apartment. Richard went into the kitchen and got a glass of water for Catherine. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but it always seemed to help.

“What’s going on? What’s happened to Camille?”

“She’s going to be fine.”

“What happened?”

“Her date, who by the way was using cocaine, slipped something into her drink. Nice guy you picked out for your daughter, Catherine. She was lucky that he passed out before he could do anything to her and that she was sick before she could absorb too much of the drug.”

“What was it?”

“We won’t know until the tox screen is done, a few days probably. But I’m not sure that it matters. ANYTHING he might have given her would have been bad. You have to stop doing this, Catherine. No more blind dates. Or, so help me, I’ll put her under house arrest if I hear so much as a hint of a blind date. And I’ll find a way to lock up the guy.”

“But I—”

“Do NOT tell me that you meant well. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That may be an old cliché, but it’s been around for a long time because it’s true. Good intentions aren’t enough. You need to THINK about what you’re doing. THINK about possible consequences.”

Catherine sat still, weeping quietly. For a man who was generally unnerved by tears, Richard was surprisingly unaffected. He didn’t back down, but he did bring the volume of his voice back to normal.

“I know you want grandchildren. So get her a gift certificate for a sperm bank. But stop tossing her into the arms of random strangers. I know you want to see her settled. But would it be the worst thing in the world if she ended up an old maid? At least she’d live to be OLD.”

“Where is she?”

“The hospital is keeping her overnight. She’s sleeping, and she will be all right. She may need to stay with someone tomorrow. The hospital will explain all of that when I pick her up.”

“I can—”

“I’m the contact because it’s a police issue. I’ll pick her up. Goodnight.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard drove home in a fog. He had been holding himself together for hours, and he was exhausted. He needed to sleep, but his fear for Camille and the argument with Catherine had him wide awake. He lay awake, replaying all the horrible what-ifs. He turned over in bed and saw Harry sitting on the bedside table. 

“Oh, Harry, what would I do if… if she hadn’t been all right?”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Richard drove to the hospital where he met two uniformed officers from Government House. He saw them take custody of the prisoner, and he gave them the evidence bag that contained the prisoner’s shirt. He had attached a note explaining how it had been collected and what the detective had thought she’d seen on the shirt. 

Then he went in to collect Camille. She was the only person in the Casualty waiting room. Richard could see from the way her eyebrows were drawn together that she had a headache. 

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Richard! Oh, good. Get me out of here.”

“Let me see your discharge instructions.”

“There’s nothing.” She shrugged.

He looked stern and held out his hand. She pouted.

“Don’t make me call the doctor, Bordey.” 

She huffed and gave him the sheaf of papers that she had stuffed into her bag. Richard scanned the papers, held out his hand and said, “Meds?”

She huffed again, and pulled out a bottle of pills. He read the label. They were extra-strength versions of an over-the-counter pain remedy.

“Have you had the first dose?”

“Yes, an hour ago.”

“And will you take them as scheduled?”

“Yes.”

“And you will take today off to rest.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“That was not a question. It was a statement. I’m going to take you home. You WILL rest, but you may choose where. You can rest at home, or you can go to your mother’s. She’s eager to see you, and I expect she’ll be quite penitent. We had quite a, um, chat, last night.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say that I think that was your last blind date. If you’d prefer to rest at the beach, I can take you to my place for the day. I know you find the ocean calming.”

“Thanks, that would be nice. But I guess I have to see Maman first. Just take me home, and then I’ll go see her. If I want a ride to the beach, I’ll call you.”

-o-o-o-o-

At the station, Fidel and Dwayne wanted to know where Camille was. Richard explained what had really happened, and stressed that the official story was the only one they could tell others. Richard collected Camille and drove her to the beach bungalow. He made sure she had her pills and something to eat for lunch. 

Then he went to Government House station to meet Saint Marie’s anti-drug detectives and help them interrogate the prisoner. The man tried to bluff his way out of things, but when he was told that a suspicious white powder had been found on his shirt, and was reminded that the woman he’d put in the hospital was a police officer, he panicked and offered up the names of his sources. 

As Richard left Government House, he checked his watch and sent Camille a text.

_Pill!_

A few minutes later, she replied.

_Took it._

The station was quiet all afternoon, so Dwayne and Fidel sent Richard home early. When he got home, Camille was asleep, curled on her side. He checked the fridge to make sure she’d eaten her lunch, and pulled out a bottle of water. He sank into his comfy chair and watched her sleep for a while, then took out a book and began to read.

Richard heard a yawn followed by a small “ow.”

“What’s wrong?” He shot to his feet.

“Nothing, I just, um, I hurt a bit from throwing up.” Camille rubbed her abdomen. “I don’t know why they pumped my stomach after I’d already been sick a few times. Do you know how they pump your stomach? It’s vile.”

“Actually, I do know. Not from personal experience.”

“Just one of those millions of things you know?”

Richard shrugged, “We didn’t know what you’d taken, so it was important to get as much of it as possible out of your body.”

“That’s why I threw up. I was feeling woozy, and I was scared, so it didn’t take much to make myself vomit.”

“You mean before I got there?”

Camille nodded.

“That was quick thinking.”

“What was it? The drug. What did he give me?”

“We don’t have the tox report back yet. You know how long those things take.”

“Come on Richard, you can’t tell me you didn’t get it out of him when you saw him today. You looked pretty grim when you left me here.”

“I didn’t kill him, so give me credit for some self-control. It was some kind of date-rape drug. That’s probably why your memory is hazy. Aside from your muscles, how do you feel? You’re due for another pill.”

“I feel okay. Tired, but the headache is gone, so I don’t need the pill.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, doctor. If the headache comes back, I’ll take another pill.”

“Do you think you can eat something? The instructions suggested soft foods like scrambled eggs. And your mother brought a loaf of your favorite bread to the station. I think she baked it for penance.”

Camille looked at the bread. “She made challah? Ohhh, that is one of my favorites. It’s soft and it does go down easily.”

“Good, then I’ll make dinner.”

“I can help.”

“You can rest.”

Camille sat on the steps nibbling on a piece of bread and watching Richard cook. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t thank me until after you’ve eaten my cooking.”

“No, I mean for last night. For taking charge and making me go to the hospital. I’m sorry if I was… I have a memory of being, um, uncooperative.”

Richard made a snorting noise.

“That bad?”

“You begged me not to leave you with the nurses. The nurse told me you cursed me for handing you over to them. I gave the nurse your handcuffs in case they had to restrain you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It was the drug talking. I had to round up my share of drunks in my days in uniform. You learn not to take what they say personally. It’s easy to do when it’s a stranger. But this… you scared me.”

“I scared me, too. I’ve always felt I could take care of myself. Even when I was shot, I gave worse than I got. And you know that I can defend myself.”

‘Yes, you can. I know enough to stay beyond arm’s reach when we argue.” Richard smiled, remembering the day he’d talked about how the victim at the spa couldn’t have been choked. He’d started to demonstrate it on Camille, and before he’d even touched her, she’d had him bent over, arm twisted behind his back. 

Camille sighed, “But last night, I didn’t have control of myself, much less the situation. That has really shaken me. So thank you for not saying ‘I told you so.’ And thank you for coming to my rescue.”

Richard reached out and wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. “Any time you need me, I’ll be there.” They stood looking at each other until the moment began to turn awkward. 

Richard handed her a plate and said, “Supper’s getting cold,” and they were back to their usual selves.


	4. Chapter 4

Things were awkward at La Kaz. The team continued to go there for an after-work drink. Camille never drank anything stronger than beer, and never more than one. Catherine avoided speaking to Richard. She just set down his tea tray and walked away, never acknowledging his “thank you.”

Camille changed how she dressed. Short shorts were replaced by jeans or capris. If she wore a strappy tank top, there was always a lightweight shirt over it. If she left the shirt unbuttoned, it would be tied at the waist. As her superior, Richard should have welcomed the more decorous wardrobe. She certainly was less distracting. But she began to distract him in another way, as he realized that the more modest dress was a way of protecting herself from potential dangers. For all that she insisted she was all right, she wasn’t. And Richard didn’t know how to help her.

Camille’s behavior had changed, too. She became more aggressive than necessary in questioning witnesses and suspects, especially single men. Dwayne and Fidel noticed the changes in her, and discussed it with the Chief. Although they all understood why she had changed, they had no idea how to get the old Camille back. As much as he hated this kind of thing, Richard had to sit her down and discuss it. So while Dwayne and Fidel were out on a call, Richard faced up to his responsibility as her superior and her friend. 

“You’re compensating for what happened to you,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t like psychology,” Camille answered defensively.

“It’s like antibiotics. Very useful when needed, but often over-prescribed.”

“Well, I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“No. You aren’t fine, Camille. You need to talk to someone.”

“I talked to Maman. She apologized. Your _chat_ made quite an impression. She promised me no more blind dates. I know things have been a little strained between you and Maman. I think it’s because you frightened her, and she knows you were right to scold her. But she doesn’t want to admit it. I’m all she’s got, and I think she realizes how easily that can be lost.”

“Well, good, we’ve sorted your mother’s issues. But we still need to do something about yours.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Richard shook his head. “No, you aren’t. There are a few ways this can go. One, you can ask to talk to a counselor. I’m sure the force has someone on retainer. Two, as your superior officer, I can send you—”

“You wouldn’t!” Camille said angrily.

“I don’t want to. But the third possibility is that your attitude will annoy someone who will file a complaint. The Commissioner will hear about it, and then we’ll both be in trouble. Right now, he thinks you’re managing just fine. But I can’t cover for you forever.”

“I don’t want to go to a shrink. It will be in my file. What if they decide to stick me in some desk job at Government House? I’ll try to be better, Richard. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Please, don’t do anything. Please?”

Richard could see that Camille was trying hard not to cry. He also knew that she hated to cry, hated to seem weak. That was what this was all about. She’d been in a situation where she had felt weak. He sighed and shrugged.

“All right. I’ll let it go for a while. Please try to be more aware of your behavior.”

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’m… is it okay if I go out… just a short walk, clear my head?”

“Of course.” Richard watched as she walked out the door. If she didn’t get her confidence back, he’d have to do something. But what?

-o-o-o-o-

Late that afternoon, as they were all getting ready to leave, Richard asked Camille to stay for a moment.

“If you’re going to start up about counseling again…” Camille said.

“No. I’ve, um, had a somewhat unorthodox idea.”

“I’d better sit down in case you suggest something bizarre like going to a voodoo priestess. The shock might make me faint.”

“No, not voodoo. I can’t believe I’m saying this. It’s contrary to everything I believe. I do NOT approve of amateur psychology, and yet that’s what I’m about to do. This all started with one horrendous blind date, right?”

“Yes.”

“What if you had a good blind date? Would that help erase the bad memories and trust issues?”

“Are you suggesting I go on another blind date?”

“Yes, strange as it sounds, that’s what I’m saying.”

“You want Maman to dredge up some guy for me? How will you make sure I’m safe, send an armed escort with me?”

“What if I were to find a date for you?”

“Where are you going to find a date for me?”

“I, uh, know someone who’d be a good date. I’m not saying he’s going to be the love of your life or the father of those grandchildren your mother wants. Just someone that I can, hand on heart, swear will not hurt you.”

“I don’t know.”

“I can set it up. You don’t have to tell your mother. I’ll introduce you in person, at your house or here at the station if you like, so you won’t have to meet at La Kaz. No pressure. No fear. This is someone you can trust with your life.”

Camille chewed her lip nervously, so Richard played his trump card.

“He isn’t a shrink, if that’s what you’re worried about. But honestly, Camille, it’s the only non-shrink alternative I can think of.”

“Okay, I suppose it’s worth a try. I hope he won’t think I’m strange if I refuse to drink anything but water.”

“I’m sure that will be fine.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I saw votes for Richard. Nobody thinks it could be Dwayne?

He stood at her door, flowers in hand, very nervous. He took a deep breath and knocked. Camille answered the door after what seemed to be a very long time. As had become her custom, she was dressed somewhat conservatively, with a light jacket over her dress. She was still protecting herself. He’d have to handle this carefully.

He took a deep breath and said, “Hi, I’m Richard.”

Camille looked confused for a moment, and then she smiled. 

“Nice to meet you, Richard. I’m looking forward to tonight.” She held the door open and he walked into the house.

Camille took the flowers he held out to her. “These are lovely, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Camille put the flowers in a vase and set them on the table. She gestured to the sofa and said, “As you know, this is the part of the date where we make small talk and get to know each other a little.”

They sat facing each other on the sofa. Feeling an interrogation coming on, Richard said, “Right. So what do you want to know?”

“Was there ever some friend you wanted me to meet?

Richard shook his head. “I think you know there wasn’t.”

“And so this is just to get my confidence back? Help me get back on that old dating merry-go round horse?”

“I do miss the confident, sassy Camille. As for the merry-go-round, I think I should approve all of your dates in the future. You know, for your safety.”

“Do you have a list of criteria for an acceptable date?”

“I’ve been developing a questionnaire. It’s quite long, actually.” He smiled to show he was joking. The old Camille would have had a snappy comeback, but she just smiled. They sat and looked at each other for a moment, not sure of what to say. Finally, Camille broke the silence. 

“Richard, why didn’t you just ask me out? Why did you do this as a blind date?”

“As much as I hate all that psychobabble team-building stuff, I thought a trust exercise might help. Because you needed to try to trust someone. Trust my judgment. Trust that your date wouldn’t hurt you. Trust that you could handle meeting someone new.”

“But you aren’t someone new.”

“No, well, I said I knew someone who’d be a good date because you had to think it was someone you don’t know. And, um, well…”

“What?”

“I thought it might be awkward if you knew it would be me. You know, being at work together and knowing we were going on a date later. Anticipation is scary enough without adding a layer of awkwardness.”

“Anticipation is lovely if you believe the outcome will be good.”

“Sometimes that can be an awfully big _if.”_

Camille thought it was sweet that Richard was nervous, despite how well they knew each other. She said, “I think I can describe your image of a blind date. Anticipation in the form of fear of rejection. The date begins with random bits of conversation and awkward silences, followed by the evening’s planned activity—dinner, drinks, whatever—and ends with maybe a quick goodnight peck on the cheek. And then afterward, worrying that she didn’t enjoy the date. Am I close?”

“Spot on, I’m sad to say. What about you?”

“Less fear of rejection, but—”

“Of course! I mean, look at you!”

Camille smiled, “Thank you. My fears about a blind date were always that I’d be bored and desperately trying to find a way to end the evening early. Maybe that the guy would be a grabber, which would mostly be annoying. And now, well, I can’t shake the fear of something really scary happening. When you set this up, you said my date would be someone I could trust with my life. And you’re right, I do trust you."

She took her phone out of her pocket and said, “I don’t need this now.”

Richard raised his eyebrows quizzically.

She tapped the phone once, and his phone rang. He took out his phone, looked at it, and then looked at Camille. She ended the call and turned off her phone.

“I was nervous, so I had your number ready to dial. Just in case. But I know I won’t be frightened with you. Or bored. You can trust me, too, Richard. I won’t try to run away from you or get rid of you early.”

“I’m sorry if this is, you know, weird.”

“That’s all right. It is kind of backwards, a blind date with someone you know so well. We’ve been through a lot together for two people who’ve never… You know what, this really _is_ backwards. So let’s begin with the ending.”

“I don’t understand. Do you want me to leave?”

“No! I’m saying that starting with the chat, what’s your job like, favorite foods, best holidays, all that stuff… we don’t need that. You’re worried about how the evening will end, so I am going to do something that I have NEVER done fifteen minutes into a blind date.”

Camille reached up and put her hand on the back of Richard’s neck. She pulled him toward her and kissed him. This was a surprise. His brain was racing. Was her confidence returning, or was she trying to bolster his? Richard thought he could go on kissing Camille all night. Right on the heels of that thought came the realization that he wasn’t supposed to be kissing her. The last thing she needed now was an aggressive date. This was supposed to be a trust exercise, and he felt like he was violating her trust. He broke the kiss. 

“Not many of my blind dates have ended this well,” he said.

“And it’s really just the beginning,” said Camille. After she said it, Camille wasn’t sure what she meant. The beginning of the date, yes. But maybe the beginning of something more? And how would Richard interpret it? Judging by the look on his face, Camille thought he was trying to sift through possible meanings, too.

Richard found something safe to say. “It’s a bit confusing. We’ve done the beginning and the end. So I suppose that leaves the middle?”

“I guess so.”

Richard looked at his watch and said, “I made a dinner reservation at Ocean Terraces. It’s in the new resort at Lookout Beach. If we leave now we’ll be on time.”

-o-o-o-o-

On the drive to Lookout Beach, Camille asked Richard why he chose that restaurant. 

“I checked their menu online. They have seafood and landfood, so I thought it would be a safe choice. And it isn’t close to Honoré. I didn’t want to add to the pressure by getting the local grapevine going. I mean, you know, there are rules, and, well…”

“Actually, there aren’t rules. I looked it up.”

“Why?”

“Do you remember when we went to Lily’s arraignment?” said Camille. “She gave Fidel a look that could kill. I asked him why she seemed to hate him most of all. I mean, you’re the one who solved the case, and you’re one of the outside officers she resented. But it was Fidel she glared at.”

“I do remember that,” Richard replied. “When we arrested her, she said something about him not wanting more out of life. In addition to being passed over on the job, I think she resented Fidel for passing over her as a girlfriend. She was jealous because he chose Juliet. Considering how things turned out, he made the right choice.”

“Yes, he did. Can you imagine if Fidel and Lily had been together and he’d found out what she was involved in? He’d have been heartbroken. As it was, he was terribly disappointed in her as a colleague and—he’d thought—a friend.”

“But what does this have to do with rules?”

“Lily had been coming on to him a bit, and he said they couldn’t date because of the rules. She told him there were no such rules. So then he had to tell her that he wasn’t interested in her because of Juliet. When Fidel told me this story, I was curious, so I checked the code of conduct. No rules against colleagues dating.”

“But there is the issue of sexual harassment,” said Richard, wondering if they were still talking about Fidel and Lily or setting ground rules for themselves. “There must be a process for reporting that. The HR department in every force has procedures for that.”

“Yes, that’s true. Lily was Fidel’s superior, so I guess he could have filed a complaint. I mean it’s usually the superior who harasses the subordinate.”

Richard drove in silence for a minute and then said, “So, um, earlier, it was okay—I mean not harassment—because you kissed me first?”

Camille smiled and reached over to squeeze Richard’s hand, “If you kissed me first, I would not call it harassment, and it definitely would be okay.”

Richard was saved from having to reply because they had arrived at the resort, and he was busy explaining to the young man at the entrance why he was not going to hand over the keys to a police car to valet parking. Camille was amused to see Richard show his badge and say he was Chief of Police of the Honoré Station of the Royal Saint Marie Police Force. Usually he simply referred to himself as Detective Inspector. The valet backed down, and allowed Richard to park in one of the check-in courtesy bays. 

As they walked into the hotel, Camille said, “You laid it on a bit thick back there.”

“Stupid git! I was not about to hand over the keys to the Defender to some kid who parks cars for a living. Would you?”

“No, of course not.” Camille slipped her arm through Richard’s and gave it a squeeze. “You were very impressive.”


	6. Chapter 6

The restaurant, as its name suggested, was designed as a series of terraces. This gave everyone a good view of the sea. Richard and Camille were shown to a table and given menus. 

“So, if we’re working backwards, should we start with dessert?” Richard asked.

Camille laughed. “No, we’ll have dessert last. Remember what I said about anticipation. It can be lovely if you believe the outcome will be good.”

Camille looked down to read the menu. Richard looked at her. That last remark, did she mean dessert? Or was she hinting about the end of the date? But they’d already done the end, so…?

“Richard?”

“Hmm, sorry, I’m being a terribly inattentive date.”

“I asked what you were planning to order.”

“Oh, I, uh…”

“I think I know. Not many restaurants on Saint Marie serve roast beef.”

“I should have known I couldn’t fool a brilliant detective,” Richard chuckled.

The waiter arrived to take drink orders. Richard was pleased to discover that they had Guinness. Camille thought for a moment and then ordered a rum cocktail. After the waiter left, Richard asked her if she was sure about the drink.

“Yes. Consider it part of the trust exercise. I trust you not to put anything in it. But if I find I can’t drink it, please don’t be offended. I need to know if I can. There is a chance of it reminding me of being sick. I had a friend in Paris who got drunk and sick on Bloody Marys one time. After that, she couldn’t even drink tomato juice, much less a Bloody Mary. Just one whiff of tomato juice and—I’m sorry! That’s hardy an appropriate topic for the dinner table.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. Revulsion can be a powerful emotion. My Mum tries it when she’s slimming. As she drives past the bakery, she recites ‘That man is the devil’ over and over.”

“Does it work?”

Richard laughed and said, “Not very well.”

Their drinks arrived. Richard lifted his pint and Camille held up her glass.

“What should we drink to?” he asked.

“To trust?”

“To trust.” 

Camille clinked her glass against his and took a sip. Richard watched her, and was relieved when she smiled.

“Delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

They chatted about the merits of stout and rhum agricole. Camille tasted Richard’s stout, and said it was too heavy and rich for her liking. Richard declined a taste of her cocktail. She teased him about not liking lime-based cocktails, since he was a “limey.” When he defended himself by extolling the virtues of multi-vitamin tables and launched into a discussion of Vitamin C and Linus Pauling, Camille sat back and smiled. When had his lectures stopped being annoying and instead become endearing?

When Richard paused for breath, Camille excused herself to go to the Ladies’ room. When she returned to the table, she could see that he looked concerned.

“I’m fine. I just needed to pin up my hair. Even after sunset, it’s a warm evening.” Camille slipped off her jacket and draped it on the back of her chair. “Ah, that feels better. I’m tired of dressing like a nun.”

“The more conservative clothing was a natural response to feeling vulnerable, but I’d hardly say you were dressed like Sister Marguerite.” 

“More psychology?”

“As I’ve said before, it does have its uses. But since you’ve brought up the subject, and I hate to upset you, but…”

“But what?”

“To some extent, your change in wardrobe is good. Um,” he braced himself for an angry retort, “a bit more professional.”

“Do not tell me you expect me to wear a suit!”

“No, not at all. And let me start by saying that I know you haven’t violated any dress code. When you first showed up at work in extremely short shorts, I was surprised. I know things are casual here, but that was more casual than I expected.”

“But you didn’t say anything.”

“Do you not remember what it was like when we first worked together? We argued about enough things without me starting a fight over your wardrobe. The Commissioner had seen you at work in shorts and didn’t comment to you—or ask me to say something to you. So I knew it was acceptable.” 

“So?”

“I know that you want to be the first officer born on Saint Marie to make DI. It might help your case if you dressed the part. I am NOT saying this as your superior; I’m saying it as your friend. Your record should speak for itself, but things don’t always work out that way. Presenting a certain image can help.”

“The Commissioner’s uniform, your suit? A look of authority?”

“Yes.”

“Did you feel you needed it in London, to be respected?”

“Are you using psychology now?” Richard asked.

“I know things were difficult for you in London, but you’ve proved yourself to the people here. They’d respect you if you didn’t always wear a suit. I think another reason you wear a suit is because the formality will keep people at arm’s length. So since we’re doing psychology, I have a trust exercise for you. Take your jacket off.” 

Richard stood to remove his jacket and hang it on the back of his chair. He moved slowly while he thought about trust. He did use his suit as a sort of armor, but he owed her at least this simple gesture. After all, she had trusted him by accepting the date, answering the door, being alone with him, ordering a cocktail. And she had kissed him. Was removing the jacket simply a trust exercise, or was she trying to say she didn’t want to be held at arm’s length?

Camille could see that he was overthinking things. And now she was, too. Was asking him to remove the jacket only a trust exercise? Or did she want more than trust from Richard?

-o-o-o-o-

As they left the restaurant and walked to the Defender, the parking valet glared at Richard. 

Camille giggled, “He’s unhappy about not getting a tip.”

“He didn’t do anything, other than annoy me. He’s lucky I didn’t check his driving license. You know, I probably—”

“Shh! Richard, leave the poor boy alone. He’s just doing his job. Remember, we’re not in Honoré, so he doesn’t know us.”

“Apparently, he doesn’t know what a police car, is either,” Richard huffed as he started the car. 

During the drive back to Honoré, they chatted about nothing in particular. As they got closer, Camille noticed that Richard seemed nervous. He parked and walked around the car to open her door. He took her hand to help her down from the car, and then didn’t know if he should hold on or let her go. She gave his hand a squeeze and then let go.

Richard walked Camille to her door, with no idea of what to say or do. He knew it wasn’t a real date. It was a trust exercise for Camille. But he wanted it to be real. He would probably spend all night analyzing the evening, trying to assess his chances of a real date with Camille.

At her door, Camille reached for Richard’s hand and said, “Thank you. I enjoyed this evening, and I feel so much better.”

He closed his fingers around hers and said, “You’re welcome. I'm glad it helped.”

“I know you don’t care much for psychology, but you’re good at it. This was just what I needed. You’re…” she paused and stepped closer to him. “You’re very special. I know this wasn’t meant to be a real date, and you’ve been kind to help me get back on my feet, so to speak. But if you wanted to ask me on a real date some time…”

“How soon may I ask? I mean, what’s the done thing after a blind date?”

Camille shrugged. “You probably should wait a while before asking me out.”

“Oh.”

Camille thought his look of disappointment was sweet, so she said, “Five, ten seconds should be long enough.”

Richard looked at his watch and said, “I’ve waited a long time to ask you out. I suppose I can survive a few more seconds.”

When time was up, he gave her that crooked smile that always made her want to hug him. “Dinner tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Um, does that make this a real date?”

“I suppose it does.”

“I know we did the ending at the beginning. But, um, could we, you know, do the ending again?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “I think we should.”

As they kissed, Camille remembered what Richard had said when he suggested the date. _I’m not saying he’s going to be the love of your life or the father of those grandchildren your mother wants._

But, she thought, he just might.


End file.
